Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) by Ben Galley Page B

skinny like a pole, they all wore red waistcoats. It was a simple uniform, and a clever way to determine authority and rank. The more faded, ripped, and stained the waistcoat, the longer its owner had flown with the Belle , and the more they got to throw their weight around.
    Lurker stood with his arms crossed, wondering who exactly he would be working with. He didn’t like the look of any of them. Maybe they should have just paid the hundred florins. Lilain and Gunderton stood either side of him, quiet and ponderous.
    The ship was a hunk of scrap, pure and simple. It was a wonder it was afloat at all. Lurker half-expected the thing to come crashing down in the river, never mind the Iron Ocean. He cast a look over his shoulder at the jittering walkway, still wobbling in the echoes of their footsteps. Maybe it wasn’t too late .
    ‘What a lovely ship,’ said Lilain.
    Higgis’ eyebrows couldn’t decide whether to scowl or scrunch into something to accompany her lopsided grin. She sucked on her cigarette and nodded. ‘She’s a beaut, ain’t she?’
    ‘Our cabins?’ asked Gunderton.
    Higgis pinched her thumb and finger between her lips. The whistle was piercing. ‘Scamp!’
    A thin waif of a man scampered around a corner, true to his name. Higgis snapped her fingers. ‘Take these two to their cabins. One and four.’
    ‘Aye,’ Scamp replied, in a voice that had failed to break. Scamp bent a finger at them and led them down the walkway, pointing out important bits of the airship. ‘Toilet. Another toilet. Captain’s cabin. And there’s the mess. And here you are. One cabin here, and one over there. Pick whichever you want.’
    He left them to it. With a wrench of the door handles, they discovered what sixty florins had bought them.
    It might have been worse. There could have been a gaping hole in the floor, after all.
    Two bunks sulked on either side of the tiny room as if they’d had an argument and hadn’t spoken in years. There were mattresses at least; marginally stained. Bolts studded the walls like iron pimples, and rust seemed to be the only wallpaper on offer.
    Lurker looked to Lilain and growled deep in his throat. ‘Still a chance to change our minds.’
    ‘We don’t have the time,’ said Lilain.
    Gunderton was also growling. They could hear him clearly over the rattle of the engines. Apparently he had done no better with his cabin. To his credit, he tugged the hem of his hood and sauntered inwards. His only goodbye was the slam of his door.
    ‘I don’t like that man,’ murmured Lurker.
    ‘You don’t like anybody.’
    ‘That ain’t true. I like Merion. And Jake, wherever he’s got to. That’s about it.’
    ‘Charming.’
    After slinging his coat across his mattress, Lurker went to stare out of their grubby little porthole. The city shone with afternoon glow, even through the murk.
    ‘I won’t be working very hard, I’ll tell you that.’
    Lilain checked the Mistress’ chambers, flicking the metal wheel round and round. ‘I don’t think you’ll be wrong in doing that. Captain Higgis has played us, good and simple. Sixty florins lighter and all we’ve bought is a filthy little floating hole.’ She wiped her finger across the nearest shelf, wrinkling her nose. ‘But at least we’re pointing in the right direction. Maker, I feel like Merion, pining to go east.’
    ‘Me too. Even if he did leave us behind.’ The method of the young Hark’s departure was a sore subject. They had barely spoken of it since the night of the Bloodmoon. Lurker scratched one of his scars under his hat. ‘Though I’d rather we were goin’ by boat—’
    Lilain cut him off. ‘And I’d be chuckin’ several shades of insides over the railing every five minutes.’ She was growing bored of his grumbling.
    The sharp cry of a buzzer sounded, blaring out of tiny grills and pipes in the corner of every cabin. A thud followed, and a scraping as the cables were pulled in over the hull.
    ‘Fancy watching?’